


Collide

by Samara_Draven



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:06:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samara_Draven/pseuds/Samara_Draven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke has always kept her magic a secret but once the secret's out, her life takes some drastic turns and the last thing she expected was to find an ally in a Templar. Trouble is... he wasn't expecting it either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hawke had a way of appearing where he least expected her and it startled him every time but right now, Cullen was busy grappling with the revelation that the brunette was a mage as she gathered magic in her palms. He groaned as the wound in his side closed a little more, becoming less life threatening.

“Stay back, apostate,” he gurgled, shaking with the effort to lean away from her hands.

Aris rolled her eyes and gently tugged the Templar back. “You’ll tear something vital if you keep moving around like that and I’m not a very good healer.” _Andraste’s ass!_ Where were her companions when she needed them? She looked at the collapsed cavern and prayed they were alright and that they could find a way around.

“You’re a battle mage then?” Cullen asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Hawke internally squirmed a little under his scrutiny. At least he had stopped trying to get away and she stopped any further bleeding, though the tissues covering his broken ribs still needed work.

“No,” she smiled a little to herself, “I’m just not a very good mage. I prefer to wield a blade as you may have noticed.”

He had, but now it baffled him. “Why?” he rasped, sounding a little more betrayed than he wanted to. He grunted when he felt a bone pop back into alignment. “Why pretend you’re not a mage?”

She stopped the healing spell and sat back, eyes haunted, “Because I never wanted to be.” She rummaged through her pack for her last two healing droughts and helped Cullen drink them, since he wasn’t choking on his own blood anymore. “I can set the rest of your ribs but you’ll have to heal the traditional way after that. I’m nearly drained –”

“There’s a lyrium vial in my belt,” he offered, though he wondered why he would even need to tell her this. A mage would sense it there…

“I’ve never used lyrium,” Aris admitted quietly, looking intently at his ruined side. “You really shouldn’t have gone chasing after a blood mage like that.”

Cullen’s mirthless chuckle was more like a pant as he argued, “I didn’t know she was a blood mage.”

Now it was Aris’ turn to laugh, though it was without humor. “Blood mages… gutless cheats.” She still got angry when she thought about anyone taking lives for power.

Aris realized she was growling a little, getting too lost in thought and Cullen was looking warily at her. “Sorry.” She forced her features back into their smooth lines and busied herself with tending his injury.

“Xandria and her friends did a lot of damage to you in very little time but it’s mostly on this side.”

“Oh!” He knew he was being distracted but he offered an explanation anyway. “I was injured recently, on the wounded coast. We’d had reports of Darkspawn there and the presence of an emissary. When we investigated, we discovered there was also an ogre present.”

Hawke snorted delicately and a smile pulled on the corners of his mouth. “I guess I don’t need to tell you how that went,” he mused.

Hawke shook her head, sadness chasing away the mirth in her blue eyes and waited for him to continue.

“My men returned me to the Gallows in time for our healers to tend my wounds –”

“Then why are you so easily injured now? Even I can tell that you seem difficult to put back together.”

Cullen’s expression closed off, eyes becoming distant. “I don’t know. Maybe that spell was more powerful than we thought. Xandria was rather determined to kill me.”

Hawke flinched inwardly. For a moment they’d been the sometimes friends and allies they’d been for three years. Now he was clamming up and she was almost positive it was because he’d just found out she was a mage and no longer trusted her. The feeling smarted more than she expected it to. She made herself focus on finishing her work and arcane energy lit her fingers once more.

Cullen felt magic suffuse him again and gasped as three more popping sensations reverberated through his torso. The spell faded away and he looked through his ruined armor to see he was all closed up but his entire left side was still angry and blotchy looking, red in some places and purplish-black in others.

“Thank you.” He tried an experimental twist of his torso but the pain stopped him cold.

“Careful! I told you I’m not the best at this and since my well has run dry, I won’t be able to put you back together again if you tear yourself apart.”

Cullen lowered himself back to the dirt, shivering a little at the chill. He watched her patiently as she rummaged through her pack again and produced a wool cloak, draping it over him. He was thankful for the increase in warmth even as his Templar pride wanted to shuck it off. He reminded himself that this was Hawke. She’d always been honorable, helping uncover Tarohne’s plot to seed abominations in the templars’ ranks. Before he knew what she was, he’d trusted her.

“You’ve lied to me, all this time, about what you are…”

“I never denied it,” Hawke murmured, “I just never mentioned it.” She rose to look for something to start a fire in their earthen hovel. Until Cullen could walk without bleeding everywhere, they were stuck.

“I don’t see a difference,” Cullen returned, tone hardening. “You possess magic. You belong in the Circle as surely as the mages you’ve apprehended.”

“Aha!” Aris cried triumphantly when she saw a few logs and crates she could use as firewood.

“Hawke,” Cullen said slowly, a warning in his voice.

She squatted to begin building a fire. “I suppose you think I’m an evil, sneaky witch now,” she said, eyes narrowed at him.

Cullen returned the scowl rather impressively from the floor. “I was going to say hypocrite.”

Aris withdrew from their staring contest before she could get angry enough to kick his side in again and put her mind to striking her flint. The wood caught almost immediately while Cullen watched and wondered at her for using simple tools. Surely a small spark was an easy enough spell?

“Yes,” she said finally. After the silence, her voice was almost loud in the cave even though she’d spoken softly. “I’m a hypocrite.” She was busy pushing wood around with a wet stick to stoke the flames so he couldn’t see her face clearly. “About this one thing, I am a hypocrite. I try not to let the rest of my moral compass to get too foggy. I have to take care of my family. I can’t do that if I’m locked in a tower. Not even my friends know.”

Cullen’s gaze drifted to the sword on her back and he studied it. This close he could see that it was just a blade. It wasn’t the best steel in Kirkwall but it was decent, the kind of blade that served someone who made a living using it. It had no magic to speak of, not even runes and he saw nothing else she could wield as a staff.

“Why did you say you never wanted to be a mage?”

Now she did look at him, cobalt stare intense on his and he resisted the urge to look away. “Is it impossible to fathom that some of us just prefer to wield a weapon? We are just as capable of learning the art of swordplay as anyone else. It’s simply a matter of training.”

Her tone was challenging but he lacked the energy to accept it so he shrugged as much as his side allowed. “The only mages I’ve ever known to refuse their nature were already in the Circle and resented that their gift denied them freedom. You never went to Kinloch Hold…” _Maker!_ If she had been, she’d have been there with her cousin and during Uldred’s attack.

“What is it?” she asked when he went too long without finishing his thought. The horror-stricken look in his eyes worried her.

Cullen blinked a few times before Hawke came back into focus. “I don’t speak of the Ferelden Circle often. Sometimes it catches me by surprise.”

Aris dug into her memory, recalling what she’d heard about the great mage tower standing over Lake Calenhad during the Blight, and her eyes widened. Cullen had come from that Circle. If the rumors were true, he was the only Templar trapped behind the great door to survive the blood mages’ assault. There were other rumors about him as well – darker rumors – but she didn’t put much faith in the gossip around Kirkwall. Still… his haunted look confirmed something terrible had happened there.

“If you ever want to talk about it, with someone you don’t see every day, I would listen,” she offered and immediately mentally chastised herself for offering such help to a _Templar,_ the Knight Captain no less! But that was years of her mother’s indoctrination talking. With a good amount of effort she stopped berating herself.

He stared at her, not bothering to point out that she would be seeing him every day as well if he dragged her back to the Gallows. Even though he’d made it clear he didn’t like finding out she was a mage, he couldn’t forget that she’d risked much every time they’d worked together and she blatantly exposed herself to heal him just minutes ago. Whereas _he_ had already decided she was less trustworthy. A flash of shame rushed through him.

The sound of voices and armor clanking outside their cave stopped him from replying, however. Hawke issued an order for him to stay put and ran around the bend to see who their visitors were. The sight of mercenaries and mages, some of them the ones she had been tracking, greeted her.

“Well, well, well,” one of the armored men drawled, “if it isn’t Hawke.”

“Darrow?” she returned incredulously. She would have been glad to see a former Red Iron associate if he hadn’t been the one that made her skin crawl during her year with them.

“Hand over the Templar,” one of the mages, an elven woman, barked.

Aris put a hand on her hip and canted it, pretending to be invested in her nails. “Templar? What Templar?”

“The one Xandria said she was dealing with,” the elf shot back. “He murdered her!”

Hawke’s hand fell to her side, where a dagger sat sheathed and her tone dripped with seductive menace. “He was trying to stop her from killing innocent people. If you’re going to point fingers, you should start with that.”

The elf practically vibrated with rage. “How would you know where the blame begins? You don’t know what it’s like to be hunted by those power drunk heathens!”

Aris rose to the bait even though she knew she shouldn’t have. “Strange… if we’re discussing the same man, let me just say that he is a master of deception because power drunk heathen is the last thing I would use to describe him. He was just trying to stop a crazed maleficar,” Aris said with a deceptively droll tone. She was beginning to wish the woman and her friends would just attack already. There were four mages and three mercenaries. She couldn’t take them all but she didn’t want to stand here waiting for the blow either.

“Look, we have no quarrel with you,” another mage, this one a Rivaini male by the looks of him, said diplomatically. “All we want is the Templar.”

“Speak for yourself,” Darrow said with a leer.

Hawke ignored him but resolved to make sure he was dead before she went down. “All _I_ want is a hot bath and a drink but since I’m still filthy and sober…” She grinned wide and feral. “No Templar for you.”

The man in question huffed a little laugh at Hawke’s attitude. She certainly had her own style. A moment later, the sounds of fighting exploded in the cave and Cullen struggled to rise to his feet. He didn’t know the number she was up against, but he could tell there were many and some of them had to be mages if they knew Xandria. Hawke would run out of time and fast. His ribs protested the movement as he finally planted his boots on the ground, swaying for a few moments. So far, his healed ribcage held together and it didn’t break when he reached for his sword. He couldn’t walk too fast or the dizziness in his head ruined his concentration. By the time he reached the turn, Hawke was looking worse for the wear. She was bleeding from several gashes and many bruises had begun to bloom on her arms and on her jaw. Her features twisted in a nasty mockery of the woman he knew and yet, there was still something glorious about her. The realization that she was fighting to defend him made his heart trip.

Two mages lay dead in the dirt alongside a mercenary with a nasty groin wound, but there were still four opponents and Hawke’s sword arm had been slashed at the shoulder. She held a long knife in it now and swung her blade with her left hand. Her form was messier this way, but she managed to keep the mages on their toes enough that they couldn’t cast properly and the two hired men couldn’t seem to land more than a glancing blow. But neither could Hawke. With so many foes to parry, she couldn’t focus on anyone long enough to get past their defenses and having to move faster to accommodate her ruined arm meant she’d tire soon.

He cursed himself for not being able to get closer any faster and pushed onward. The dance continued for another minute before Hawke started to slow down but by then Cullen was close enough to affect the battlefield. The mages hadn’t noticed him yet so he began gathering his will, sweating and shaking with the strain. A particularly nasty blast of cold sent Hawke stumbling back and a mercenary took the opportunity to deliver a kick to her head. Cullen’s stomach dropped as he saw her go down, pausing briefly in his preparations.

The mages concentrated on Hawke but she groaned and rolled away from a fireball just before it struck and put a foot beneath her. Cullen was glad to see she was alive and getting back to her feet. Her bearings seemed to have deserted her to nauseous effect as she rose, her left eye was swelling shut from the kick and her brow was a little misshapen, but she did get back up, heaving raspy breaths.

“For the love of Andraste,” one of the mages cursed. He was an older looking man with graying hair. “Why won’t you die?”

Even the mercenaries had paused and were looking a little doubtful. Hawke glared at the mage with her good eye and sneered, “Because I have manners and I insist you go first!”

The man growled and they all moved at the same time, Aris trying to close the gap between them to connect her sword to flesh.

Cullen didn’t stop to consider his movements and accommodate the wound as he released the Holy Smite he’d drawn. As the energy left him, fire bloomed in his side and everything Hawke had knit together came undone, but he had the satisfaction of seeing the apostates’ faces go slack as their spells and magic disappeared.

Aris was thankful she didn’t have much mana at the moment or the wash of Templar energy would have stunned her too but as it was, the man was down – possibly dead – and the elf was swaying on her feet. Aris took advantage of the moment to drive her sword through each mage’s heart, cringing as their blood showered first one boot and then another.

The two mercenaries backed nervously toward the cave’s opening, hands in the air. “L-L-Look, it was just a job. They didn’t pay us enough to die for it!”

Hawke sighed and lowered her blade, letting them run off so she could check on Cullen. “Flames!” she cursed when she turned around.

Her sword clattered to the ground and she had to step around the blood stain spreading over the dirt floor. She looked through the fissures in his armor and saw only red liquid rushing through the metal. She tried to pull on her mana but her vision dimmed around the edges and she had to stop or pass out.

A gurgling noise that sounded like it wanted to be her name got her attention. She looked at the Templar whose blood was now spilling through his bluish lips with alarming speed and anger swept through her. “Damn you and your foolish heroics. You’re not dying today Cullen.” She didn’t go through this ordeal to lose another good person, to fail so utterly.

She patted his sash frantically until she felt the small glass lump and extricated the lyrium, pulling out the stopper. “Here goes nothing,” she groused and tossed it back. The flavor was metallic and minty and pungent all at once. It tasted cold and filled her with heat. Hawke gagged, _Maker! How can they stand taking this stuff everyday?_

As the mineral flowed down her throat, it felt as though a winter breeze, hard and mind sharpening swept through her, and suddenly the place her magic resided was full to bursting. This time, there was only focus as the healing energy flared in her hands. With this feeling, she could heal people all day! She spared a glance at the man lying on the floor and was pleased his color stopped whitening, though he was barely conscious.

A few moments after that, the rattle in his breathing eased and Cullen gasped with the freedom of it, eyes widening. Hawke focused on the punctured lung and torn blood passages inside him until they were fully healed this time, instead of worrying about setting his bones and closing the gashes. Those weren’t life threatening and he would kill himself if he tore something vital again. When she was satisfied his organs were as good as she could make them, she shifted her attention to the bones but didn’t get very far as the once overflowing magic sputtered out. The suddenness of being empty made her dizzy and the world tilted a bit.

“Easy,” Cullen croaked. Hawke had said she didn’t use lyrium and the abject look in her good eye at the abrupt loss of power was rather adorable. The blood drying in his throat was foul and scratchy but he felt much less dead now. It had been a very close thing though.

“Thank you, Hawke.” He didn’t even try to move this time, sure that he probably couldn’t lift his thumb.

She nodded mutely and reached for her pack with shaking hands. Now that her heart was slowing, she felt her own injuries keenly and wished that she had saved one of her health potions. Her head was throbbing so hard, she was sure it’d soon crack open on its own and the world looked a little off but she couldn’t place what the difference was. The temperature also seemed to be dropping like a stone or it could have been that the heat of battle was deserting her. She busied herself with bandaging the both of them up as best she could but when that was done, waiting was all there was left to do.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

The sun was just beginning to touch the trees when they were found. As fate would have it, Templars were their rescuers, Thrask, Keran and Emeric among them. They sputtered about the mess of bodies at the cave entrance and tutted over their ranking officer’s foolhardy actions that landed him in such a mess, while Hawke waited to be restrained as soon as Cullen could point and say, “Apostate!”

First Enchanter Orsino appeared inside the cave and immediately began his healing duties. He chose the Knight Captain first over Cullen’s objections, agreeing with Hawke’s insistence; he was still too pale.

He looked at the injury and grumbled, “Untrained novices; it looks like you were cobbled together a couple of times, Knight Captain.”

Cullen’s lips flattened in a white line when he thought about how he’d been healed but to Hawke’s surprise, he said nothing and let the others believe the maleficarum were responsible for the shoddy patch job during their ‘interrogations’. Soon it was her turn and Orsino grimaced when he detected a skull fracture in the left side of her forehead.

“In hindsight, I should have tended you first, young lady. A blow to the head like this can be fatal if not tended immediately. You were lucky.”

Aris heard a noise from Cullen’s direction and found him managing to glare ‘I told you so’ at her as clear as day.

“I’ll need you to lie down,” the elf said and Hawke started.

“Why?”

The First Enchanter let out a long suffering sigh. “Because you must be asleep while I fix your head.”

Her eyes skittered around, going cross with the sudden movement and making her dizzy. She did not like the idea of being unconscious in a cave or while in the company of Templars.

“Don’t worry, miss,” Thrask cajoled. “You’ve taken care of all the blood mages and we’ll be able to handle the stragglers… though I doubt you left any,” he added with a little chuckle. “You are safe.”

He laid a gentle guiding hand on her arm and moved to stand behind her and help her down not far from Cullen. Aris looked at him then and found him impossible to read beyond his determined façade but she calmed a little as his body heat gently warmed her side, reassuringly alive. He hadn’t revealed her secret yet so she chose to put her trust in that. If the Maker willed that she woke up in the Gallows then so be it. She let Thrask ease her to her back and Orsino cast a sleeping spell.

As her eyes got heavy, she heard Cullen say, “It’ll be alright, Hawke, I promise.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Hawke hadn’t expected to be in her own bed when she woke but that was where she was the next time she opened her eyes. Her armor was gone and she was dressed in a clean linen outfit, no doubt her mother’s doing and her head felt markedly better. Her vision was startling clear, though she hadn’t noticed at the time of the Templars’ arrival, that it had gone fuzzy. After tentatively trying out her legs, she found her slippers and made her way out of her room to the voices in the main hall.

The formal dining table had been brought in and it dominated the space, her family and friends surrounding it. Leandra was still a little stuck on propriety so the women were on one side, though she sat at the head of the table, and the men were on the other. Gamlen was sat at the end with his back to the door and Varric was to his right, pouring drink after drink for Hawke’s uncle while he pried for juicy tidbits about the family. Carver was only too content to have Fenris’s attention as the elf asked the new Templar everything he could about the differences between being a recruit and a full knight. Aveline and Isabela were bantering venomously at each other like always while Sandal watched them from the floor by the fire, randomly laughing at them. Hawke smiled too, engrossed in the scene below the banister and oblivious to the tall figure that emerged from the shadows behind her.

Cullen watched Hawke as she observed her family. The smile they brought her made him wistful for a moment, to have known such a thing. She was softer in this moment, lack of armor making her seem like a different person. Hawke’s form was robust, thick with the strength needed of a fighter and lacking the thin birdlike quality of most noble women. Her shoulders and back were as proud as ever but her graceful, sloping curves were apparent now; feminine attributes undeniable. He’d imagined that she would appear diminished somehow when not dressed for battle but instead she was more - dangerously so. She could crush a great many men in single combat, himself likely included. Forgetting that was a danger all on its own _._ He moved deliberately and slowly enough to alert her to his presence but she still jumped when she noticed him.

“Cullen,” Hawke sighed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here.”

“No,” he said slowly and then sighed. “We need to talk.”

“Of course.” Hawke knew it would be too much to hope he’d just leave. “I see you’re good as new.” She gestured at his unblemished plate. He likely left only long enough to change his robes and armor before returning.

Cullen smirked ruefully. “No thanks to you.” He waited a beat before adding, “Orsino couldn’t stop grumbling about how poorly healed I was.”

Hawke fiddled with her fingers pensively. “I told you I’m not a good mage.”

“Maybe not, but even the First Enchanter admitted I would have died otherwise. And those mercenaries would have done away with me long before Thrask arrived. If you hadn’t been there… I owe my life to you, Hawke – twice over.”

Cullen watched her as she blinked rapidly, a blush rising to her cheeks and then looked at the floor.

“Arissa,” Leandra’s voice called from the top stair. “I was just coming to check on you; you’re missing supper.”

“That’s an unusual name,” Cullen remarked and looked at the woman bearing it who seemed relieved at the interruption.

“Mother named me after grandfather,” Hawke explained, sounding a little embarrassed.

“Aristide Amell,” Leandra supplied, a note of pride creeping into her voice.

“But,” Hawke interjected, “most people just call me Hawke.”

“’Most people’…?”

Hawke smiled. “Just most people in general. My friends call me Aris. I’d prefer you to call me Aris too, but Hawke is fine, if you prefer that. ‘Arissa’ is reserved for family and all the pandering nobles.”

Leandra gasped indignantly but her smile betrayed her.

Cullen chose to ignore the faint thrill at being invited to the status of ‘friend’ in Hawke’s estimation and instead focused on what he’d just learned. “Aris…” he repeated.

Cullen had never considered what her first name could be. Though, as a warrior, her surname embodied her far too well. “Aris” couldn’t have been more perfect for the woman in front of him. “It suits you.”

Leandra beamed at him in approval but was all business a moment later. “Dinner’s getting cold, we should join the others. And there’s plenty of food for you too ser knight. You must be hungry after a day like today.”

Cullen gaped at her. He _was_ ravenous but was this woman out of her mind? Inviting a Templar to a meal in the same house as her mage daughter?

He stammered out a ‘thank you’ not sure what else to say but Hawke gave him a nod, a smile and one of the ridges on his left gauntlet a tug before heading toward the stairs. So he followed, albeit a little numbly.

Leandra pulled his gauntlets off and set them aside and steered him to sit between Carver and Fenris who both brightened and already he could see questions in their eyes. His nerves about being such a target of curiosity kicked into gear but he was also across from the chair Aris claimed and felt a little better to be near a familiar face. She was placed between Aveline and Isabela and Cullen suspected this was deliberate on Leandra’s part. Nothing kept the two women from coming to blows like having Hawke to separate them.

“So we’re inviting the tin-plated, religious zealots to our meals, now sister?” Gamlen groused from his end of the table.

The room erupted in a chorus of “GAMLEN!” and the man fell silent, chastened, while Cullen blushed furiously and scrunched his long frame deeper into his armor. Food began circling and the Templar privately marveled at Hawke’s family. They weren’t all blood relations but they were still clearly bonded as such and there was no mistaking that Hawke was the glue keeping them together. He watched her laugh with Isabela, get passionate about plans to rout highwaymen with Aveline and listened to Fenris’ account of how they escaped the cave-in. They, in turn, listened to her recount her own struggles to keep him alive, though he noticed she left out any mention of her magic.

He stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop about the time he tasted Leandra’s traditional potato boar stew. He decided he would worry about speaking with Hawke later. She wasn’t running away like she should. She had a good chance of escaping right now – he was only one knight in this house full of her very capable friends – and yet some of the times their gazes happened to meet, hers was defiant. She was expecting him, _daring_ him, to arrest her and make a scene here at the dinner table.

He shrugged and began sopping up broth with his bread.

Fenris took the next opportunity to rant about the evils of the mages, holding up Cullen’s and Hawke’s near death experience that day as the “perfect example”.  Aris smiled sadly at her friend before making Bodahn sit and take a break from tending the table. Cullen surmised this was a frequent occurrence since Leandra merely stared disapprovingly at her daughter as she served dessert herself, tossing a few morsels to her mabari, Gondor where he sat with Sandal. The blond dwarf scrambled to his feet long enough to get a plate of dessert for himself from the table and then returned to his spot by the hound.

Cullen had never been invited to a home in Kirkwall before and for all the austere splendor, the camaraderie at the Hawke residence that night was better than resplendent state dinners of the finest cuisine at the Viscount’s Keep could ever be.

 “So Messere Templar,” Varric began in a strangely light tone and the others all groaned simultaneously. “You must have some intriguing stories about Hawke’s native country, being from there yourself.”

Cullen fidgeted as every pair of eyes shifted to him. He scanned them all to see varying degrees of polite anticipation but he looked at Hawke last and studied her gaze, committing it to memory before asking, “You never knew your cousin, the Hero of Ferelden, did you?”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

 

Fenris, Isabela and Aveline had left soon after dinner was done. Bodahn and Sandal retreated to the kitchen to clean the mess dinner had left behind. Varric followed after them, still trying to glean details about his favorite muse and was handed a stack of plates for his effort. Cullen chose the moment to broach the subject of Aris’ magic. The single glass of wine he was allowing himself warmed his belly and settled his nerves as he brought his thoughts into order.

“Hawke, I’d like to discuss what happened today…”

Leandra made a quiet sobbing kind of noise and when Cullen looked at her, she was studying her hands, wringing the fabric of her dress in her lap.

“I’m sorry, mistress,” he told her, “but I do know.”

The woman nodded and he saw a silver drop fall to her skirt. “Aris couldn’t have healed you with only medicines and bandaging, could she?” She raised her head then, setting liquid bright eyes on him.

Cullen gave one firm shake of his head. “No.”

“I’m sorry, mother,” Hawke said and her brother went off.

“That’s just great!” He bellowed and got up to pace around the table. “We spent our entire lives hiding from the Templars and you may as well have pranced to the Gallows with a staff in hand! Did you even stop to think what using your magic _on the_ _Knight Captain,_ might lead to? I’ll be kicked out of the Order for sure because you had to go ruin it! How could you be so selfish?”

“CARVER!” Leandra screeched at him. The boy was wise enough to stop shouting but he continued to glare at his sibling.

Cullen’s mind whirled at the display. The warm and friendly Hawkes he’d had dinner with were suddenly gone. He rose slowly and Aris had risen too, looking ready to give her brother a right hook. He came around the table, catching her gaze. “I don’t think what you did was selfish,” he said honestly. “Quite the opposite, actually… but I do think it was reckless.” He smiled a little saying that. His own men had said much the same to him about running off to investigate suspected blood mages alone. “You’re not trained, if Orsino is any judge...”

“She has control.” Leandra hurried to rise out of her own chair. “She didn’t want to learn but Malcolm wouldn’t stand for it. When it came time to learn how to cast though, we respected Arissa’s desire to learn how to wield a sword instead. It took us ten years to convince her to learn a couple of basic spells.”

The last bit was said a touch bitterly and Hawke sighed. “Mother simply refuses to understand that I don’t want to do magic.”

“You’re a hell of a fighter,” Gamlen slurred from his seat. “I say stick with what you know if you’re good at it.” He raised his wine in salute before tipping it back.

“Thank you, uncle,” Aris said, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him. She tried to gauge whether or her sibling was calming or not but it didn’t look promising.

Cullen laid a hand on her shoulder, getting her attention and jerked his head at the door. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Please, ser,” Leandra implored as he scooped up his gauntlets and slid them on. “Don’t take my daughter. She’s all I have left!”

Cullen glared at the older woman, a little affronted. “What of your son, mistress? He’s a Templar, not dead!” They all looked at Carver who appeared angry, crestfallen and embarrassed at the same time.

Gamlen snickered. “The man has a point, Leandra.” His amusement died when the Knight Captain frowned at him too.

“Hawke, please…  I would like to speak with you in confidence.” He gestured toward the door, leaving no room for her to disagree so she preceded him out.

Outside of her estate, Aris was nervous to be alone with Cullen but glad to be away from her intrusive kin. “You must think they’re a bunch of selfish bastards, after a display like that,” she said when Cullen came close enough.

He chuckled quietly. “Is that unusual for a family?” He had never known his parents so he had no comparison for how families were supposed to act.

Hawke started at his question. “Sometimes I forget that you were raised by the Chantry.”

Cullen waved her sadness for him away. “Only for a time.”

Aris raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And before that?”

Cullen inwardly cringed at his slip. “I… was a street urchin until the day I tried to steal a mince meat pie from the Chantry kitchen window. Mother Emelline decreed that I should pay restitution by serving as a scullery boy.”

Hawke gaped, stumbling a little in her shock. “ _You_ were a little thief?”

Cullen laughed and shrugged. “Well, we had to eat.”

“’We’?”

At this, Cullen sobered a bit. “There were many of us on the streets. Terrible things can happen to children that have no one to care for them and many of us stayed together in groups. My earliest memories are of the older kids teaching us how to hide and where.”

“I’m sorry,” Aris said.

He looked at her, surprised by the pity he saw there. “It’s alright, truly. It was the only life I knew and there were times that it was… fun.”

“How old were you when your life as a brigand was brought to an end?” She said it lightly, but she found she was truly curious to know more about this, about him.

Cullen sighed. “Would it sound strange if I said I’m not sure how old I am?” He glanced at Aris but she simply returned the look in shock, so he continued. “I was too young to remember my parents and the kids I ran with didn’t know how old I was. At best, I may have been four when whatever it was that separated me from my family happened. I could have been younger…” He looked again to gauge her reaction and stumbled on.

“I do know I was with those kids for six seasons. Soon after I began my service to the Chantry, I began to grow like all teenagers do. The sisters said it was because I was finally getting some decent food. I was just happy to learn my stomach wasn’t _supposed_ to have this empty gnawing ache in it all the time.”

Hawke tried to imagine this version of Cullen, young and small and hungry. It wasn’t hard to see how better nourishment would be a novel thing for such a kid.

“How old do you suspect you are?”

Cullen tried, for a moment, to see if he could _feel_ how old he was but as usual, it was pointless. “Twenty eight? I could be thirty… maybe even thirty two.” He suddenly chuckled. “How many people get to arbitrarily decide how old they are? I just usually assume I’m still in my twenties.”

“Naturally,” Aris agreed with a grin. “So if you stole food… and money buys food,” Aris conjectured, turning left around a corner when Cullen steered a shoulder in that direction. “Did you ever…?”

He feigned innocence. “Did I cut purses?” He held up a hand and in it was Hawke’s own pouch of coins.

She started. “How did you…?”

He smirked just a little. “I am sworn to silence, milady. I cannot divulge the Ferret Guild’s secrets.”

Hawke snickered behind a hand. “Ferret Guild?”

“It sounded clever at the time,” he mumbled.

“I think I’ll let it slide,” she giggled. “You were only children after all.”

“You’re too kind,” he said dryly.

They walked quietly for a few minutes and Hawke realized they were heading towards the ferry and time was running short.

“Thank you, for telling us about our cousin; I never knew her but I’m glad someone remembers her fondly.”

“Every Fereldan has the highest esteem for her,” he said, confusion wrinkling his brow.

Hawke nodded and wandered a few steps closer to whisper. “But not every Fereldan knows she used to go through books about the world, dream of the places she’d visit and write down her adventures. They don’t know that she used to steal apples from the larder and sneak out of bed at night to dance with an enchanted broom to the melody of an old jewelry box.” Hawke smiled softly and sighed, “They all know the great tales of the Hero who died to save them, not the ones about the person she was. Those are the ones that make her seem real.”

“It was my pleasure to share them.” He was pleasantly surprised to realize he meant it and smiled but grew serious a moment later. He saw Aris bracing herself for the real reason he’d asked her out on this stroll and sighed.

“Look, Hawke… you saved my life.”

“I seem to recall you saving mine as well,” she returned.

He nodded in allowance of that. “So now we’re going to argue about who saved whom last?”

Aris’ chuckle was throaty. “I could hang a chalkboard and keep a tally.” She mimicked reading a slate, nose scrunched in mock concentration and pointed at thin air. “Ah! It’s my turn to rescue Cullen’s backside from…” she squinted, “crazy dwarves!”

The Templar found himself laughing at her antics and it felt good. He had the suspicion she did it on purpose. People laughed quite often around her.

“As I was saying, I owe you a debt and I don’t think we’re even. You wouldn’t have needed any help at all if you weren’t protecting me.” He waited a beat before adding, “Or if there had been just one less mage...”

Hawke flushed nervously at the compliment. “What are you saying?”

Cullen stopped and turned to face her. They were in the middle of the deserted market now and he gazed around to be sure no one was nearby. “I’ve already given my report to Knight Commander Meredith about Xandria. It details your involvement… with the exception of your… extra abilities.”

Hawke’s eyes went round, lighting with the silvery glow of the moon overhead and she sucked in a breath. She felt she might explode with relief. “Thank you but… Why?” She didn’t dare believe this just yet.

“An honor debt can only be repaid with honor,” he said solemnly. “You took a great risk for my life and almost died saving it. Yes, I have my duties… but if I have no honor in carrying them out, I don’t deserve to wear this uniform.” He looked down at the emblem emblazoned on his front and let out a long breath. “I can’t condone you using magic –”

“I hadn’t cast a spell in years before today.”

“I know.” Though she had very good reasons to let him die, he was immensely grateful she hadn’t.

“The least I can do is not take you away from everything you’ve built here. I can’t protect you from others finding out and if you’re exposed, there’ll be nothing I can do to keep you from the Gallows. However the Order won’t learn of it from me.” He waited for that to sink in and his expression hardened. “But I will be keeping an eye on you… If I discover you’re abusing this courtesy, I _will_ drag you to the Circle. Is that clear Hawke?”

Aris swallowed and nodded, “As a bell.”

Cullen studied her for a moment before nodding too, as satisfied with the situation as he could be. “I must admit I wonder why you were in the Coast caves…”

Hawke blinked; she should have expected he’d want to know that. “Amelia Norrik, a woman here in Hightown, hired me to find her son.”

“Wait, Norrik? Their eldest, Lienne is in the Order,” Cullen said, alarm starting to creep up his spine. “Their son is missing?”

Hawke watched him solemnly. “She asked me to look into his disappearance. He hadn’t come home for a few days and she found some letters he’d received that seemed _very_ friendly but he’d never mentioned a new courtship. She also noticed they were dated shortly before gold started disappearing from the family vault. Amelia said she suspected dark magic was involved, that Luthaan was far too fond of a well-endowed ledger to spend money away like that.” Hawke began walking again and Cullen followed, watching her profile intently.

“Lady Norrik was right,” Aris continued, casting a sad glance at him. “Luthaan had been enthralled by a mage that worked for Xandria, who was using his family’s connection and money to get supplies and information. I worry Lienne could have also been compromised, though I have no real cause to believe so.”

A spectacular knot of tension began forming in the base of Cullen’s skull as he considered the implications of having an enthralled knight in their midst. “I’ll have her assessed. Maker… Xandria was brought to the Order’s attention three months ago. How long was Luthaan under her influence?”

Hawke grimaced, “According to the dates on the letters, about two months of that time.”

“Blast!”

“If the Order knew about her, what took them so long to come after her?” Aris knew an accusation had crept into her words but she didn’t take it back.

Cullen sighed and gazed up at the stars for a moment. Discussing Templar business outside of the Order was frowned upon and divulging anything to a mage could cost him his knighthood and possibly get him jailed, but Hawke had been involved before he knew what she was. This case wasn’t exactly a secret to her and, since she knew more than he did, comparing their information could only be useful.

“We came close but she managed to escape. After that we had a difficult time tracking her. I guess Luthaan’s help enabled her to stay ahead of us. Why didn’t his mother seek Templar aid?”

“She said she did but her daughter was ill and the Templar she spoke with, Ser Bato dismissed her. He told her she was being overly protective; that her son was simply in love and to let him be.”

A snarl twisted Cullen’s mouth and he said flatly, “I will have to speak with _Ser_ Bato. A Templar should never shirk his duty like that.”

Hawke wasn’t any happier about it than he. “Sounds like the Order needs to make a few changes to how it runs things.”

“Sadly, you’re only too right.” He stopped himself from elaborating because Hawke was better than most at understanding more than she ought to know with even the smallest amount of insight. Suddenly the pattern in the stones passing under their feet became overly fascinating.

Hawke didn’t miss his sudden withdrawal and schooled the disappointment out of her expression. Instead, she focused on the path leading to the stairs that would take them out of the market and to the dock between Hightown and Lowtown. More information wouldn’t be forthcoming, she knew. The Order preferred secrecy about its affairs and she was fortunate Cullen had told her anything, mage or not. Still… the reminder of the classifications between them stung a little.

Cullen allowed the silence to stretch as they made their way toward the ferry. They’d just reached it when he thought again of the confrontation with Xandria’s followers and Hawke’s defense of him.

“Aris do you often place yourself between the likes of Tarohne, Decimus and their victims? You said you wouldn’t allow me to die but faced the certainty of it for yourself. Why?”

They stopped out of earshot of the ferryman but Hawke still looked around nervously. “I was hired to save Luthaan… but for me, it was about stopping Xandria. I failed young Lord Norrik but I decided no one else would die if I could prevent it.”

Cullen could understand such a feeling, however… “That’s a noble ideal, but I’m a Templar –”

“So that means I should want you dead? That I should turn the other way when a good man needs help because of the uniform he wears?” Hawke said crossly, eyes narrowed at him.

“Maker, no Hawke! I didn’t –” He hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how he’d managed to irritate her so. “I didn’t mean that.”

“It was wrong, Cullen.” Her voice was hard and she had such fire in her eyes, he could only stare. “Mage or not; they were killing people and would have included you on their list of victims. You being a Templar doesn’t make it any less wrong. The only reason I was there and the reason I saved you is the same as the reason you kept my secret from the Knight Commander: it was the right thing to do.”

Their staring contest raged for a few moments more before the Templar looked away. Tension drained out of him as Hawke seemed to visibly recede, shrinking away from him.

“Last run folks!”

They both looked at the ferryman who was tapping an impatient foot on the dock.

“Thank you for dinner,” Cullen said. “I haven’t had a decent Fereldan meal in… well since I left Ferelden.”

Aris smiled. “I’ll be sure to tell mother. Good night Cullen.”

“Good night, Hawke.” He went to the boat then and stepped aboard, watching her wave him off as the ferry began to move. Suddenly he chuckled to himself. Despite everything that happened, the part about the evening that stood out most in his mind was that Hawke had seen him safely to the dock when it was _he_ who was the knight in armor.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

When Aris slipped into her estate once more, Leandra was immediately in front of her demanding answers. “Where is the Templar? I want to talk to him.”

Hawke sighed and walked past her pacing mother. “He’s gone back to the Gallows.”

Leandra stopped her frantic steps at that. “He left you here?” She started pacing again, “That gives us the night to get you out of Kirkwall. I’ve already had Bodahn start packing a trunk for you.”

“Mother!” Arissa was aghast this had already been decided for her and that Bodahn had been disturbed over it. “I’m not leaving.”

Leandra glared at her eldest. “You have to leave the city before the Templars come back for you! I haven’t kept you safe from them for twenty five years to see you locked in the Gallows now.”

“Cullen isn’t going to turn me in, unless I give him a reason to.”

“What?” Leandra deflated so suddenly, she had to sit on a foyer bench. “But once he reports your magic...”

Hawke shook her head and smiled softly. “He didn’t.”

“Didn’t?”

“He’s already given his report… and he left out all mention of my magic.”

“I didn’t expect that.”

“Nor did I.”

“That still doesn’t mean it’s safe to stay here.” Leandra’s frantic energy returned and she got up again. “This incident just proves it.”

“I’m not leaving,” Aris said firmly.

Leandra waved her daughter’s statement away imperiously. “Of course you are. What if he changes his mind? It’s only a matter of time before –”

“I’m _not_ going mother,” Hawke huffed. “Even if I knew the Templars were going to drag me away in the morning, I would stay right here. I can’t abandon you and Carver or my friends.”

“What good is staying here if you’re a prisoner of the Circle? The Gallows is a dreadful place! I don’t want to see you wind up there.”

Aris narrowed her eyes at her mother. “Maybe I could do more to change it from the inside than I can from outside…? I’m a big girl mother; it’s time to stop living for me.” Hawke looked around the house she owned with a wistful smile. “I’ve done all I can to care for you. I would be content with this if I were to go to the Gallows. Carver could have a decent life. We could all stop running. You could stop worrying about me. I don’t want to run anymore.”

“I’d still –”Leandra tried again to make her daughter see but Aris was having none of it.

“I said no, mother. I won’t intentionally give the Templars a reason to arrest me but if that day comes, it comes. We’re staying here. We’re staying together.”

Leandra gave a defeated nod and lowered her head. “I guess I’d better go help Bodahn unpack your things then. Varric took his leave while you were gone but he left you a note in the library.”  With that, Leandra drifted to the main hall and up the stairs.

Hawke watched her go before taking a deep breath and walking to Varric’s note, hoping he wasn’t upset with her too. She could only take so much remonstration in one day and after dealing with Carver, Cullen and mother, she was done. The slip of parchment was sitting in her favorite chair by the fire and she picked it up carefully.

_“Your mother explained why you suddenly have our esteemed Knight Captain following you around. I confess, it wasn’t the lurid and tawdry reason I was hoping for, but any intrigue is still intrigue! I understand why you hide it, Hawke. But, we’ll have to talk soon. The rounds are on you._

_~Varric”_

Aris chuckled and said out loud, “You _would_ use this as an opportunity to weasel a few pints out of me, wouldn’t you?”


	2. Chapter 2

Four weeks had passed when Hawke next came to Cullen’s attention and it was in connection with Ser Varnell’s actions against a Qunari delegate. Varnell, being a Templar, had cast an ugly light on the Order. Cullen himself had not had any unpleasant business with them but their blasphemous stance on the Maker and general distaste for the Thedosian way of life made him uneasy. He wanted them to be responsible for this somehow; it was easier to swallow than the truth. As he made his way to Viscount Dumar’s office, he wondered how Hawke had gotten involved in this.

Seneschal Bran escorted him into the wide double doors and his stomach jumped to see Aris standing there. Her back was to him and she was deep in discussion with Kirkwall’s leader. She’d bought new armor and weaponry since he last saw her, though still no runes or magic he noted when the unique hum of lyrium didn’t tease his senses. She was wearing half-plate now and it had obviously been tailored to suit her rogue style. The presence she commanded in it dwarfed the Viscount. The twin swords on her back were still covered in blood, hastily wiped off all but the most stubborn smears, but it didn’t disguise that they were of high quality as well, the kind of make one needed to survive combat regularly.

“I said before that Kirkwall owes you…” Dumar was praising her, but Hawke cut off the flow of flowery words and Cullen felt his admiration grow a little.

“Kirkwall is owed a decisive stance from you,” Aris said, reprovingly. “If you don’t condone the actions of Varnell and his followers, address that. Make it plain you disapprove.”

Bran audibly choked and glared at the woman for daring to address the Viscount in such a direct manner.

For his part, the Viscount simply sighed and rubbed his forehead. “What good would that do, except upset the Chantry?”

“They will just have to be upset. We can’t afford to provoke the Qunari. We have no leverage with them, but you needn’t condemn the Faith to make your point. Mother Petrice is saying this was the action of a few extremists, so let’s play along with that. It would re-enforce what she claims and make her all the more accountable for her lies.”

Cullen had to admit, it was a sound piece of logic and he wondered why Dumar hadn’t thought of it; or Bran. As usual, Dumar was only focusing on more potential problems instead.

“Kirkwall is home to many Templars and they are the Chantry’s army…” the Viscount said feebly.

It was this that drove Cullen to break his silence. “The Order would never assault Kirkwall sir!” He was aghast that anyone could think so.

Hawke startled when she heard his voice so suddenly behind her. She spared him a sideways glance as he crossed the floor in long strides. He returned it briefly before he continued frowning at Dumar.

“The Qunari issue is a matter of state and we do not involve ourselves in matters of state.”

The Viscount looked taken aback to be so confronted but still mustered an excuse. “The Chantry believes it’s a matter of church.”

“Only a small number seem to think something has to be done about it,” Aris put in. “But their numbers will grow the longer people believe you won’t do anything to stop them. The Qunari are Kirkwall’s guests. Unwelcome guests, to be sure, but still guests. If the dissenters knew you would not stand to have guests treated in such a manner, it could prove dissuasive.”

Bran looked at Hawke as if he’d swallowed a sour grape.  “Need I remind you that many of Kirkwall’s citizens share those beliefs? They may not be among the extremists committing these acts but they will not take kindly to any faction of the Chantry – no matter how small – being remonstrated, even if that faction is clearly out of line.”

Hawke had to bend forward to return the seneschal’s scowl across Cullen’s breast plate and he felt as though the little man was hiding behind him on purpose.

She didn’t bother to speak directly to Bran however, and leveled her rebuttal at Dumar. “Popular opinion won’t stop the Qunari if they decide to invade the city. The Chantry can’t use the Templars to overthrow this office because they deal with matters of apostates and maleficarum. The Qunari pose no such threat for the Order to pursue because they’re even more opposed to magic than Meredith on a _bad_ day,” Aris said snidely.

A sudden chuckle erupted out of Cullen, making everyone look at him and he quickly tamped it down. “Hawke is correct,” he said, managing some semblance of seriousness though the corners of his mouth refused to come down. “The Order can’t act against the Viscount on such a matter unless our duties command it. The Qunari are hardly a magical threat.”

Dumar sighed, the faintest hint of his own grin threatening his frown. “I will consider it. I’d rather not ruffle anyone’s feathers at all but perhaps, in this instance, I must.” He had eyes for only Hawke once more as he thanked her for rendering the help he’d asked for. “The Arishok even seemed to appreciate that we told him exactly what happened to his people. I’m glad I asked for your opinion.”

Hawke simply nodded at that and turned to leave. Cullen stopped her with a hand on her elbow, not consciously noticing how the nerves in his fingers jumped ever so slightly at the contact with the warm leather there. “I’d like to ask a few questions about your confrontation with Varnell when you have a moment, Hawke.”

Aris dragged in a breath, trying not to let the drain of having recently fought a Templar show and nodded. “I’ll wait outside.”

Bran followed her at a distance, trying to glare holes in the back of her skull and Cullen shook his head. “If I may ask, why does he dislike her so?”

Dumar stared at the door as it clicked closed. “He’s been like that around her ever since she rescued Seamus a couple of years ago. I’ve never asked Bran about it but I can’t think what reason he might have. She’s an amazing young woman.”

Cullen quietly smiled in his agreement of that. “That she is.” It was all he would say on the matter but the Viscount had more. Thankfully it addressed one of the questions on his mind.

“I shudder to think what could have happened if she wasn’t here to deal with the Arishok. She seems to understand him and he appears to respect her.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow. “You asked for her help?” Relief swept through him at Dumar’s nod, glad that Aris hadn’t involved herself against someone from the Order uninvited.

“I thought involving an independent emissary was best.”

It wasn’t a small concern, Cullen thought. “Sending Templars in among the Qunari might have been interpreted as an act of aggression and now that it turns out a knight was responsible, it would have called our involvement into doubt.”

The Viscount sighed, shoulders slumping. “Indeed,” he paced the stretch of his desk a few times before looking at the Knight Captain.

“It was bad enough to have a Templar involved but as the spiritual guiding body of Kirkwall’s infrastructure, any action taken by the Chantry would appear to be sanctioned by the people as a whole. What a mess…”

“I’ll discuss the day’s events with Hawke. Maybe further insight will help both of us.”

Dumar’s gratitude was visible in his features. “Thank you, Knight Captain. Although I must insist you let Hawke do the work. Lend whatever aid you can but the less the Order appears to be involved the better.”

After settling the details of what was to be done with Varnell’s body and whether or not his family would receive the last of his pay, Cullen wandered out of the office, his heart heavier than when he walked in. He took advantage of the relatively empty passage before the door and allowed himself a moment to sag.

Arissa kept her silence from the top of the stairs and waited until he straightened up to intrude. “Let it go, Cullen.”

He started when she spoke. Her voice was rich and warm. It didn’t carry and bounce off the walls, making him feel as though they were alone and his unease lessened a little.

He was closing the distance between them as she continued, “There’s no way you could have known this civil unrest was partly a knight’s doing.”

He scowled at that. “The problem isn’t that this surprises me, Hawke,” he said. “The problem is that it doesn’t. The Order has always had its share of fanatics. The same can be said of the Chantry or the Guard – we all have those who take their duties too far and most often the ones who suffer are the ones we’re meant to protect. Yet even with this knowledge nothing is done about it.”

Aris blinked sadly, unsure of what she could say that would help and cast a glance at Dumar’s door. “Perhaps he’ll finally take a stronger stance now that he’s aware what such fanatics will do in the name of the Maker.”

“We can only hope,” Cullen replied and then he remembered what he walked in on her saying to the Viscount. “Though with you telling Dumar how to do his job, he should have the hang of it soon.”

Hawke grimaced and turned toward the stairs. “Did I sound that bad?”

Cullen suddenly realized she had a habit of pacing or turning away when she was grappling with an unpleasant idea or feeling and followed her down. “You said what I can only desire to – what most of Kirkwall would desire to.”

“Hmmm, perhaps he excuses me because I’m a ‘crude and uncivilized Fereldan’…”

Cullen huffed. “If only that were true...”

“Ah but you’re too much of a gentleman to actually try it, my fellow countryman.”

They had arrived at the great doors to the Keep and Hawke reached for a bronze handle but Cullen hurried to grab it first and pulled the door open for her.

She shot him a look but he shrugged and said, “It’s the sort of thing a gentleman does, milady.”

Aris tried not to think too much about it and strolled through. The next stop was the cellar where Varnell’s body was kept and they both were quiet as they took the long flights of stairs to the ground. To the right of the grand staircase, there was a set of doors that Cullen slipped through, holding them open for her to follow. The darkness behind the inner door was absolute and she walked into him when he stopped, her armor clanking loudly against his.

“Sorry,” he said, blushing reflexively and ducking his head to hide it before he remembered she couldn’t see him. “There should be a torch here. Something’s not right.”

“It went out,” Aris deadpanned.

“But it shouldn’t have. It’s magically lit and can only be magically doused.”

“Well don’t look at me,” she shot back when she felt him shift in front of her.

Cullen had to think about that for a moment. “Actually, I hadn’t recalled that you are a mage until you said something.” He retorted, a little amazed with himself for forgetting.

“Really?” Hawke privately marveled at that. He sounded sincere.

“I guess you just don’t remind me of mages.”

But now that he had the thought in his head, the idea of asking her to light the torch passed through his mind but he dismissed it. Aris’ sensibilities aside, it would be hypocritical of him.

“This is a narrow passage,” Hawke said, touching both sides of the corridor with her hands.

“Considering what it’s for, it doesn’t need to be any bigger. The chamber holding Varnell is straight ahead,” Cullen said and began walking.

Aris followed him, judging by sound how close she should be. The darkness was so complete; she thought this was what it must be like to be blind. It occurred to her then that she’d never really been in the dark. There had always been a fire or candle or the moon glowing during the night. It was broad daylight outside but in here, it was as dark as a tomb. It sort of was a tomb, in fact; being the place where bodies were kept until they’d been examined and readied for funeral services.

“Andraste’s knickers it’s creepy down here,” she said, teeth clacking a little, “and cold.”

Cullen smiled, feeling the clammy air slithering under his own armor. “It’s the perfect place to keep corpses until it’s time to put them on a pyre…” A thought struck him and he paused. “Are you scared of the dark, Hawke?” The surprise was evident in his tone and he could almost feel the change in the air behind him as the rogue stiffened.

“No,” she retorted, not even convincing herself. “I’m just not used to it.”

He turned in her direction, trying to contain his chuckles. “Andraste as my witness, you are!”

“Shut it.”

Now he did laugh, delighted with this new quirk he’d discovered in the legendary Hawke. “Poor Varric would never be able to sell any more stories of your exploits, if his audience learned of this.”

“You speak a word to anyone…” she trailed off knowing the threat wasn’t really worth finishing.

“How many of your secrets do you expect me to keep?” Cullen chided.

“Bah!” She growled and shoved past him. “I’d rather rot in the Gallows first.”

He chuckled again for a moment before jogging to catch up, armor clanking loudly in the narrow space. “You really would, wouldn’t you?”

Arissa said nothing to that and he decided it was only fair to reveal one of his own discomforts. “Have you ever seen one of those performers with painted faces who don’t speak and pretend they’re in a box?”

“Mimes?” Aris snorted. “They’re pretty high on my list of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen, just after Orlesian nobles.”

“I find them disturbing.”

Aris stopped and looked toward the sound of his breathing. “You’re afraid of mimes?”

Cullen shuddered. Arissa seemed to sense it and giggled. “I would have expected the Tranquil to be more unnerving for you.”

He heard her moving again and followed. “True,” he allowed. “They are unsettling but as a Templar, I’ve become used to them. It’s especially unnerving to see someone you knew before the Rite, walking around with that blank stare and flat voice.” He swallowed at the memory of Owain. “But mimes…” he shuddered again.

There was a sudden crash of armor against wood, followed by ‘Oof!’ from Hawke and she stumbled backwards, nearly bowling them both over. Cullen caught her though and managed not to go down with their combined weight.

“Well,” she huffed. “I found the door.” She stepped forward again and began patting the wooden barrier for the handle. “Uh… where are the handles Cullen?”

Still a little dazed, he shook his head. “Blast it! There are none. The doors are magically controlled. I’d forgotten they would be locked if the fires weren’t lit.”

“Maker!” Aris cursed when she couldn’t find even the smallest groove in the wood to provide a hand hold. “Is there anyone who would have any reason to do this?”

Cullen didn’t answer immediately and when he did, his tone was more like a snarl. “Scavengers…”

“What?”

“The Order hasn’t wanted this to be common knowledge, but for some time now we’ve been experiencing trouble with lyrium scavengers.”

Hawke’s eyes widened and her stomach rolled. “You’re not saying…?”

“Templars take lyrium every day – sometimes two or three times a day depending on how much they’ve needed to use their abilities or how resistant they’ve become to it.”

This got Hawke’s attention. “Resistant?”

Cullen waited so long to answer that she was sure he wouldn’t at all but eventually she heard him take a deep breath.

“During our years of service we build up a resistance to lyrium and need to take increasing amounts for our talents to work and… to stave off insanity. Older knights have so much of it collected in their body that taking it becomes useless. It’s become a profitable business to bleed a Templar’s corpse, sometimes butchering it, for the solid lyrium deposits it may contain.”

Aris hung her head and bit her lip.“I don’t suppose you have any ideas about who these scavengers are?”

Cullen looked to where the torches were supposed to be dancing with flames. “Mages… Possibly maleficarum; it’s easier to strip out the lyrium if one is a blood mage.”

Arissa grimaced. “Well since we can’t go forward, we should go back and see about getting the torches relit.”

“Well the, um… door we came through will only open from the outside. The torches control it too.”

Hawke let out an exasperated sigh. “And here I thought my day couldn’t get worse,” she groaned.

“We will have to wait this out. Meredith will eventually realize that I’m not in the Gallows and send someone to investigate.”

“If mother hasn’t paid half of Kirkwall to find me first,” Aris added.

“How long until then?” An unpleasant thought was forming in Cullen’s mind.

Aris went still. “Probably not until morning. I do tend to be out at all hours but I’m usually in by sunrise. Unless I’m expected to be gone, that’s when she’ll start to worry.”

Cullen swallowed. “I’m not due back at my post until morning either.”

Aris had to wrangle down a wave of panic. “You mean we’ll be stuck here all night?”

“More than likely, yes.” Cullen shifted uncomfortably; the chill was only going to get worse as night fell. Without the sun, winter’s grasp on the city was more apparent. Again the urge to ask her to light the torches came to him. He decided the danger of freezing in the night was worth bringing it up. “Could you light the torches?”

“I didn’t bring any flint because I didn’t think I’d…” Then she realized what he meant and struggled to reign in her temper. “No, Cullen...”

He felt guilty to hear the tremor in her voice but he pushed anyway. “I know I have no right to ask but if it gets cold enough –”

“I understand, but no. In such a small space, an uncontrolled fire would kill us. I won’t risk it.”

“I wouldn’t let it get that far. Or have you forgotten I’m a Templar?”

“No more than you’ve forgotten I’m a mage, apparently,” Aris snapped, anger beginning to rise. The Gall! First he told her he didn’t want to hear of her using magic only to ask her to do just that!

Cullen continued with his rationalization. “We have little choice. Freezing to death –”

“There has to be some other way.” Aris was wavering and she knew it. She turned on her heel and began marching back to the door leading into Hightown. She would have walked into that one as well if the noise of her armor rebounding off of it hadn’t alerted her to its presence.

Cullen wasn’t surprised when she began pounding on the thick wood planks and shouting.

“Hello! Somebody! We’re trapped inside!”

“They can’t hear you Hawke. Those are double doors and the inner one is sealed remember?”

She growled and gave the door a vicious kick. “Blight take you!” She yelled and then rounded on Cullen. “This is what I get for helping people!” She gave the door another taste of her boot before sinking to the floor and wrapping her arms around her knees. “I can’t… I just can’t.” _Not fire… anything but fire._

The near hysteria in her voice twisted something inside him painfully so he relented and squatted in front of her. “I shouldn’t have asked. Maybe someone will come looking for us sooner than we think.” Hawke was silent and when his groping hand found a shoulder, he discovered it was trembling.

It was unsettling, Hawke being so upset, and he felt ashamed for bringing it upon her. When she’d healed him, she’d been fine; if somewhat concerned with his reaction to learning about her gifts. If he’d known how opposed she was to using destructive spells, he’d never have spoken. Yet he was glad he had uncovered this, for it was a worrisome thought. Aris didn’t simply prefer not to use magic; she was _afraid_ of it.

“I’m sorry, Hawke,” he said quietly and settled next to her against the wall. It was going to be a long night.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

 

Without any light from outside, it was impossible to know what time it was, but Aris thought it was close to or past dinner time when her stomach rumbled painfully. The temperature had started to drop, making it about the time the sun was going down. Her teeth were constantly clacking together if she didn’t clamp her jaw shut and her fingers had already gone numb.

Cullen wasn’t fairing any better. She could feel the violent tremors that ran continually through him despite the layers of padding and armor they wore. He also hadn’t said a word since she had her little fit and the silence was getting to her. It didn’t help to know that he was suffering because of her selfishness. Still she couldn’t bring herself to cast the spell. One little spell and they’d be out. Then she’d remember Carver and toss the thought away.

 _Carver…_ Her brother, who was now a Templar; she often wondered who would choose such a life. He’d said the Knight Captain was part of his inspiration, that Cullen’s experience in Ferelden was a prime example of how noble the knights really were. So what made Cullen want to join?

“You still awake there, Cullen?”

She felt him jump a little next to her right shoulder.

“Hmm? Yes. Is something wrong?”

Aris shook her head. “No. It’s just… I’ve been wondering something: How did you become a Templar? If you were paying restitution for stealing food, I don’t see how the Chantry thought you should join the Order.”

“My restitution was only for a season and when I returned and proclaimed my desire to be a knight, Mother Emelline was the strongest supporter of my decision… after she recovered from shock.”

Hearing the wistful humor in his voice, Aris smiled and waited for him to continue. “During my time at the Chantry, a group of apostates came to Denerim to hide. There were three and one of them was injured. Four knights arrived right after them. I was in the Chantry courtyard, tending the garden when the confrontation took place.”

Cullen’s tone adopted a dreamy quality as the memory played in his mind. “It was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. The knights stopped spells in their tracks. I had never witnessed what Templars could do! And it was like Andraste herself had blessed them and any who chose to uphold her edicts. It was the first time I truly felt that she must have been real.” Cullen paused for a breath and when he continued, he was much less awestruck. “One of the mages surrendered and another…”

“He killed the injured mage and began using his blood to power his magic.”

Hawke felt a shiver pass through her at the image of this happening in front of a child.

“A knight took the maleficar out quickly and the surrendered mage, pleading for his life and forswore having anything to do with dark magic. The other knights wanted to execute him immediately but the knight who’d stopped the blood mage stood before his fellows and told them that it was also their duty to protect mages and since the one who’d turned himself in hadn’t done illegal magic, he wasn’t to be harmed.” Cullen smiled sadly. “The knight was brave, merciful and noble and everything I wanted to be. My decision to join the Order was made that day…”

Cullen stopped and Hawke was instantly alert. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” He replayed his next statement in his head. “I wanted to protect people from magic and give those with its burden a place where they could be safe even from themselves. I know that sounds odd,” he said hurriedly. “But Owain hated himself so much, I thought it wasn’t fair that innocent people had to worry about becoming monsters.  That’s what I thought when I was a youngster. I guess I’d forgotten that.”

“It’s a far cry from someone who thinks that mages aren’t really people,” Hawke answered softly.

Cullen sighed; dismayed she hadn’t forgotten that particular outburst. “Such are the dreams of youth, I suppose. Things change with necessity and time but I somehow I doubt that boy I used to be would look upon me now as fondly as he did Greagoir.”

Aris turned from Cullen’s voice and stared into the inky blackness around them. Seen with Cullen’s logic, the Templars were noble, caring guardians. Perhaps that’s what they were supposed to be. She’d certainly been terrified of her magic at times. “Greagoir?”

At that Cullen shifted and leaned over as if sharing a secret. “He was from Kinloch Hold… and at the time, held the title of Knight Captain. But most know him as Knight Commander Greagoir.”

Hawke felt a smile crack her face. “I knew it!” She thought of her sister then. “Bethany and I met him once. He came to Lothering to escort their new recruits from the Chantry. I’d known some of those children for years, played with them. They seemed so… lost as they were led away.”

Cullen’s eyebrows raised high on his head at that. “It seems… reckless for a family of apostates to consort with children of the Chantry.”

Aris laughed a little bitterly. “Mother would agree with you.”

“I’d like to hear about this time you met Greagoir, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Hawke sighed, trying to maintain her composure; those days were long gone but she still wept for them sometimes.

“The townsfolk never fully trusted us because we were so reclusive. They didn’t want their children playing with people who kept to themselves so much. They also didn’t want their children playing with the orphans from the Chantry lest their ‘broken upbringing’ taint their precious little gems.” A sigh escaped her then and she hugged her knees. “We had something in common - the lot of us - and mother, despite her efforts, couldn’t keep us from being with our friends.”

“When Greagoir came, Bethany was crushed that he was taking them and she asked him if he would bring them back to visit someday. He looked at her… rather strangely, I remember, for a moment before laying a hand on her shoulder. He said, ‘I’m so sorry little one. Your days of innocence are soon to end. You will see some of your friends again one day but your duties will put you on opposing sides. Remember them now, as they are; play the day away as if you’ve never played before or will again. And never forget this day.’ He left then, to speak with Mother Hannah and we took his advice; we played anything and everything we could think of until the sun left the sky and our parents came looking for us. It was late and the Chantry offered my family beds for the night so we joined the orphans and slept among them in the loft.”

Aris smiled when she remembered the game of Stars Shapes they played into the wee hours of the morning and her chest tightened as she recalled the morning after. “That morning Greagoir led them out of Lothering, teaching them to march as they walked. We never did see them again.”

Cullen was quiet beside her and when she nudged him to see if he was still awake, he was nearly breathless. “He knew… Greagoir knew your sister was a mage – or soon to be one.”

Hawke nodded and chided herself a moment later because Cullen wouldn’t see it. “The next night Bethany was having a nightmare about our friends and when I tried to wake her, I was thrown against the wall by a force blast.”

“Incredible,” Cullen murmured, face slack with shock. “Greagoir felt her magic before it manifested… Why didn’t he take her with him? Or your father? Presumably he would have met him when he and your mother arrived at the Chantry.”

“I don’t know,” Aris replied with a shake of her head, forgetting again the darkness they were in. “I do know that he seemed like a good man, despite his gruff attitude.”

Cullen laughed, rubbing his raw eyes, wondering what time it could be. He felt like he’d been up all night already. “He is definitely a puzzle in that regard.”

They fell silent after that, neither having much to say as the chill became freezing and remaining warm was their sole focus. They were both curled up against the wall and though Aris knew the stone was probably doing more to thwart their efforts to conserve heat, she was too weary to stand.

Some time later Cullen suddenly blurted choppily, “I can’t feel my feet.”

“Neither can I,” Aris said. “Nor my fingers and nose…” She thought again of the darkened torches in the wall and fidgeted nervously but the shivers masked it. “Are you _certain_ you can dispel my magic in time, if I lose control?”

Cullen looked toward her voice, not sure he’d heard correctly. “You’re not going to roast us alive if I have anything to say about it.” He stood a little unsteadily as his cold limbs felt weak but he managed it.

Aris took a deep breath and nodded, rising to her feet. “Alright, let’s try to get out of here.”

He wanted to ask what changed her mind but held his tongue for fear she’d change it back so he shuffled a few paces away and drew his sword, shaking the trembling from his limbs as much as he could manage. “Ready when you are.”

Arissa simply stared at where her hand should be, trying to find the energy within that would bring forth flame but the darkness prevailed. The first time she’d ever created fire had been an accident and all too easy but now that she wanted it, she couldn’t feel the spark she needed to ignite. She sighed in frustration and flexed her hand as if that would help and pulled on her mana again.

Cullen heard her feet scuff the stone floor as her annoyance grew. “Just relax, Aris. It’s there; let it find you.”

“I have to keep control. If I don’t, I’ll burn us both.”

The concern was touching and there was a kind smile in his voice as he insisted. “This is what Templars are for. It’s rare for apprentices to need us during their casting lessons because they’ve been learning gradually with their tutors. What you’re attempting is more dangerous – especially if you are attuned to destructive magic. You’re not trained and it cannot be mastered in one attempt. You have to let go and allow it to find you. Let me worry about keeping it under control.”

“Right… Trust a Templar not to miss out on a chance to smite someone,” she joked.

Cullen sighed, refusing to let the crack rile him, “Just… trust me, Hawke.”

The soft timbre of his voice made Aris shudder all over and she felt warmer rather than colder. She did manage to make her body ease, however. She squared her shoulders, forcing herself to go still and just allow the sense of her magic to take center stage in her awareness, to rise and fill her from head to toe. Suddenly she was aware of Cullen in a way she never felt before; it was as though she could see him with her mana and she realized it was the lyrium in his system. She focused her magic through the world around her, silently marveling at everything she felt. The energy in the cliff that Kirkwall was carved from, the Fade connection of every person who walked close enough, even the past uses of magic here all jumped out her.

She kept the revelation to herself though and looked again at Cullen, a lone cloud of energy that was tightly wound in on itself. He was waiting and ready in case anything went wrong. She should have known he would be. The longer she studied him, the more her mana felt tugged in his direction, like a door opened to a breeze. She wondered if this was how a knight was able to dispel magic, if the arcane energy of a mage was instinctually drawn to the doorway they appeared to be only to be slammed shut once beyond it.

It was a thought she’d examine later. At the moment she had more pressing concerns.

Thinking hard enough about the desire to bring flame to her hand and to have light eventually caused the tiniest flicker of fire in her palm but it died immediately. She pulled on it again and again the little spark went out. The strange sensation of too much energy on her nerves began to prickle and she had to resist the urge to slam the path to her mana shut.

“I have an idea,” Cullen said.

She could hear him walking closer and felt his presence when he was beside her. “If we find the torch…” he said, almost directly into her left ear and the warmth of his breath made her shiver. “Ah. Here it is.”

Suddenly a hand was on her shoulder, moving down so she raised her arm and the wrist was gently tugged forward. She was turned and placed in front of the wall and he stood behind her, taking her hand and guiding it over the stone. Suddenly the wall dipped in and inside the alcove was a rough feeling object that she assumed was the torch and she groped until she found the swaddling on the piece of wood.

“There,” Cullen murmured, hand falling away. “Try it now.”

Aris wanted to make a joke if only to cover her nerves but the words wouldn’t come, so she concentrated on the torch and lighting it. The little flicker was brighter this time and managed to catch the tinder on the second try. A moment later the whole torch lit up and an answering ‘ _foom!_ ’ could be heard at the far end of the corridor. Aris jumped back, blinking against the new brightness. The flame still danced in her hand and when the door down the way swung open she squealed, “We did it!” She looked at Cullen, beaming.

He smiled too. “ _You_ did it. But… Hawke?” He gestured nervously at the fire still in her hand which had grown with her excitement.

Aris swallowed the panic that threatened to bubble up and concentrated for a moment and the fire flickered out. At least she could still do that on command. “Shall we?” She gestured at the door behind the Templar and he turned to tug on its handle.

It didn’t move.

“I don’t understand… It... It’s after dark,” Cullen said, heart sinking. Well at least they wouldn’t freeze to death anymore.

Hawke stared down at the black opening at the far end. “Is there another way out down there?”

Cullen grimaced at the thought. “There’s an exit in the chamber that leads to the under city. It’s not a path I’d recommend.”

Arissa brightened, suddenly glad she wore the cellar key around her neck. “It’s our only option. Unless you want to spend the night on cold hard stone…” She took off toward the door already anticipating the bath she would be taking when she got home. As they came to the second torch, she stopped to admire it and the warmth it offered for a moment.

Cullen watched her smiling softly at the flame. It was good to be able to see again.“Hawke? Are you alright?”

She shook off the daze and blushed. “I was just taking a moment to appreciate the light.”

She passed into the room Varnell’s body was supposed to be in and unsurprisingly they found it empty. Aris was instantly in investigative mode as she studied the fresh drag marks where a body had been moved to a door in the back of the room.

“Looks like whoever took Varnell went into Darktown too,” Cullen said.

Aris’ earlier anger at the mages who’d locked them in resurfaced. “Though I’d hate to have a decent meal and hot bath delayed, I hope we run into them down there because I have a little steam to work off.”

The walk through Darktown was quiet and uneventful though. Indeed many of its inhabitants scurried away from them as they passed. Cullen didn’t mind and Hawke didn’t care.

 “How can anyone live down there?” Aris whined as they made their way toward her cellar.

“When a person is desperate enough, they’ll live anywhere,” Cullen answered.

“That was a rhetorical question, ser knight.”

“That was an obvious answer, Miss Hawke” he responded.

She clucked her tongue. “The price of freedom…”

After rounding another turn and crossing a narrow bridge, Aris found Hawke estate’s cellar entrance and wasted no time getting the lock open. He followed up the slim passage, cursing stairs under his breath, but took a moment to admire the impressive size of it once they were finally in the cellar proper. Hawke lovingly patted one of the wine barrels as she passed it. “This is my favorite vintage.”

They made their way to yet another staircase and Cullen glared at it. “If I never see another set of steps tonight, it’ll be too soon.”

Aris laughed as she pushed the door at the top open. “Last one, I promise.” With that, heat and light flooded his senses as they pressed into what appeared to be the family vault. He took a moment to admire the sets of armor and shields but stopped short when he saw a broken mage staff mounted on the wall. His confusion must have been plain because Aris spoke before he could ask.

“It was my sister, Bethany’s.” She touched it lovingly before turning suspiciously bright eyes on him. “As talented as she was, it didn’t stop that ogre… We couldn’t bring her body with us – there wasn’t even time to burn it – but at least in this way, she’s still with us.”

Cullen had nothing to say to that so he nodded and Hawke stepped towards the door and into the estate. It was even warmer in the main hall than it had been in the vault and Gondor roused from slumber, began barking his excitement over seeing her.

“Oh you look absolutely dreadful!” Leandra exclaimed as she hurried to see what the mabari was making noise about and spotted them. “Have you been traipsing through Darktown again?”

She eyed the both of them narrowly and Cullen awed at the fact that it made him feel twelve again. “Not by choice, mistress.”

“We had a little misadventure in Hightown,” Aris said.

“If getting sealed inside the coroner’s locker could be considered a misadventure...” Cullen mused.

“What?!” Leandra twisted her hands as she was wont to do when distressed. “You were inside the coroner’s locker? For how long?”

“Since just past midday, mistress,” Cullen offered.

“Void it all… You spent half the day in there! You must be starving, sweetheart,” she said to her daughter. “How could this have happened?” This was directed at the Templar but he shrugged.

“I honestly don’t know how it was done or who did it, but I have a fair clue as to why,” Cullen said, ignoring Hawke’s pointed look and praying she wouldn’t contradict him now. “The doors shut as soon as we entered and we couldn’t get back out.”

“I’m still disappointed we didn’t run into whoever it was on our way here,” Aris groused, distracting her mother from questioning them further and reached to remove the shield on her back.

Her mother took down the sword, scabbard and all, laying them by the fireplace and took the shield from Aris but it slipped from her grasp with an awful clang. The noise brought Bodahn and Sandal out of the library to investigate a moment later.

“Ooh! I make it shiny!” Sandal clapped and ran off.

“You don’t have to worry about it tonight!” Aris called after him.

The dwarf merely clapped again and they heard him gush, “I love to make shiny!”

“Indeed,” Bodahn said from the doorway. “He loves to care for your new armor, messere.”

Hawke smiled at him, “No matter how late the hour when I drag it in.”

“Um…” Cullen started, “what is the hour?” He looked around for a time piece but the main hall didn’t boast one.

Leandra finally looked at him directly and scowled a little. “It’s almost midnight, Templar.”

Aris watched them, frowning at her mother’s frosty tone but she kept her tongue about it for the time being. “Which means the last ferry to the Gallows ran nearly two hours ago,” she said and watched him grapple with the news.

“Blast it all…” Cullen stared morosely at his feet for a moment, mind spinning. He had only one option for getting back to the Circle and it wasn’t a good one. “I’ll go back to Darktown, there’s a passage to the Gallows –”

“Nonsense; you can stay here tonight,” Hawke declared.

“What?” Leandra didn’t sound happy about this.

Cullen’s eyes went wide. “I… I couldn’t impose, Hawke.”

“You’re not,” she assured him. “You once said most people would slam their door in a Templar’s face as soon as offer one a bed… I’m about to disprove that.”

“But you, clearly, aren’t like most people,” he retorted, a smirk threatening to appear.

“Aris, he can’t stay here! What will people think?” Leandra was twisting her hands in agitation again as if she longed to slap some sense into her daughter.

Hawke turned and glared at her. “This is my house, mother. I do not need your permission.”

Leandra sighed and shook her head. “Well I better warm up something for the two of you to eat,” she said and wandered off.

“Uh, milady…” Bodahn stammered at Hawke, looking guilty. “You might want to go to the mason tomorrow. Your fireplace in the library…”

Her eyes drifted closed and she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “What happened?”

“BOOM!” Sandal said as he wandered back into the hall with a bundle of armor polishing supplies.

Hawke looked at him for a moment before turning to his father. “I thought you were keeping him from making those.”

Bodahn fidgeted and shuffled from foot to foot. “I took away all the ingredients he needs to make them but somehow he always gets his hands on more.”

“Excuse me?” Cullen’s curiosity had finally gotten the better of him. “What _is_ he talking about?”

“Sandal makes these stones that explode when you throw them,” Aris supplied.

“Not enchantments!” Sandal proclaimed brightly.

“Yes and they work very well too.” Aris knelt down to the dwarf’s level, laid a hand on his should and fixed an intent stare on him. “Sandal I must ask you _not_ to make anymore ‘boom’ okay? Someday I may need you to make them and I will ask you first, but for now; please don’t make them anymore. I want my house to remain intact for a many more years. Understand?”

Sandal was suddenly unusually alert and returned the gaze softly. “I’m sorry Aris. No more ‘boom’.”

Aris smiled at him. “Thank you Sandal.” After that, the younger dwarf scampered off to see to the weapon and shield in his favorite spot so she stood and looked at Bodahn who was still looking fretful.

“I will forfeit my pay until the cost is covered, Miss Hawke…”

“I’ll have none of that Bodahn. _You_ will take care of this tomorrow. I’ll pay whoever _you_ choose to have it fixed and _you_ will oversee the repairs and that’ll be the end of it. Just keep him from blowing up any more of my estate.”

The dwarf’s eyes went wide with wonder. “Surely it will be expensive…”

“Let me worry about that. You just worry about making sure the fireplace gets put back to rights and that it doesn’t happen again. Do we have an agreement?”

Bodahn smiled hugely. “Indeed!” He caught Cullen’s own look of astonishment and said, “Truly, I have never known a more generous heart than milady.” The dwarf wandered off but the Templar stared at the head of Hawke household, mouth a little slack. She didn’t seem inclined to comment on her display of generosity though.

“Well… I don’t actually have any rooms available because I gave the last one to Orana. I _was_ going to put you in the library,” Aris murmured. She cast a shy look at him and couldn’t meet his gaze. “I wouldn’t put you in the kitchen with the dog... Do you think you’ll be alright out here?” She gestured at the fire behind them.

“Your mother has a valid concern: Do you not care what people may think?” He asked instead and shifted in his boots, wondering why his thoughts seemed intent on falling out of his mouth when he least expected it. “Having me here overnight is –”

“…Is nobody’s business but my own,” Aris said, squaring her shoulders. “If I wasted time worrying about what others thought of me, I’d never get anything done.” When there was no reply to that, she sighed. “I can’t make you stay, Cullen. If you want to leave through Darktown; go, but my offer remains.”

Spending the night traipsing through the under-city really wasn’t an appealing idea and if he was honest with himself, remaining at the estate was more attractive than it should have been. He didn’t want to go, but he also didn’t want to cause problems for Hawke. Idle gossip had never bothered her before, he knew. When she’d been spotted walking with an armed elf and speaking with him as though he was an equal, the controversy raged for three months and she’d just let it. She wouldn’t allow popular opinion stop her from doing what she thought was best. Finally he nodded, “Thank you, Hawke. In truth I was dreading the idea of having to walk all that way.” He looked at the fire, the warmth alone was incentive enough and he smiled. “I’ll be fine out here.”

 She smiled too for a moment and commanded “Turn around,” and tugged on the fastenings of his armor as soon as he complied. “So how is my brother adapting to life in the Order?” She was making conversation to draw her attention away from the broad back in front of her and the warmth under her fingertips and – mostly – succeeding.

“Uh, good,” was all he could think to say. “Carver has a natural gift for the skills he’s learned. Being well versed in a heavy weapon has probably helped him more than he realizes.”

At that Hawke smirked. “Be sure to point that out to him some time. He could use the reminder that he is his own man. It was his choice to study the skills of a warrior.”

Cullen half turned toward her. “He taught himself?”

Aris mulled that over. “He picked up whatever he could learn from other warriors; Templars, mercenaries and the like. He kept what worked for him and changed what didn’t. His style is uniquely his own.”

Cullen hummed at that and half turned. “Self-made man, indeed… but why do you want me to tell him this?”

Hawke prodded him to face forward again and he complied, acutely aware of the tugging at his back.

“Coming from me, he’ll think I’m patronizing him, or lying, or assume I’m leaving the ‘I’m still a better fighter than you’ left unspoken. He wants so much to make his own way, as far from my reputation as he can get. But he’s so blinded by that, he doesn’t see what others do.” Aris paused, fingers stroking between straps in thought. “If his superior sees something worthy in him, maybe just maybe he’ll loosen his grip on the grudge he carries against the world. And me.”

He turned around again, flinching at her muted hiss as the buckles pinched her fingers from the movement. “Sorry,” he blushed.

Aris sucked on the offended digits, gesturing for him to continue with her other hand.

“After what he said to you that evening at dinner…? You don’t hold it against him? You’d rather encourage his pride?”

“Not his pride; his self-esteem. It’s what a big sister does and I don’t hold grudges against Carver. He’s a natural born ass – he can’t help himself.” She pointed to the wall behind Cullen. “Now stop turning around before I lose a hand or something.”

Heat flushed his features and he did as commanded a little numbly.

Whether it was his nerves about the situation or the fact that Templars always had assistants of the same gender conflicting with the knowledge that Hawke was female, he could only guess, but the faint touch between his shoulder blades as she worked made his muscles jump and he struggled not to squirm. He was so focused on the inner battle that he forgot to hold the chest plate in place and it suddenly plummeted down his front. It was stopped mid-dive by her hands on either side of his waist and her body heat was instantly suffusing his back. All at once breathing normally became nearly impossible and he swallowed before taking the piece of armor from her hands.

“My apologies,” he said. “I suppose I let my mind wander a bit too far.”

Behind him, Hawke sighed, “It has been a long day. If my stomach wasn’t paining me, I’d skip eating and go straight to bed.”

Then her hands were gone from him and he shivered minutely at the patches where his robes felt cold. He busied himself with setting down the Templar insignia and starting to work on his greaves. Hawke still had her own plate on and he watched her stretch to reach a latch on the side and had to fight his laughter as her right arm extended and she walked in Circles chasing after the elusive catch. Finally she stopped and let out a long exhale, held her breath and reached again. It didn’t take long for her face to get red and her eyes to bug a little, followed by her cheeks puffing out. It looked extremely uncomfortable and he bit a cheek to keep quiet. Suddenly she sucked in a great gasp of air as her armor snapped loose.

“Aha!” The remaining two latches were easier to reach and the armor came open, revealing her rather form-fitting gambeson.

It was black and had gold embroidered flames on the bodice.  When she bent to work on her greaves, he saw the dual hawk crest on her back, also in gold. Finally the leg plates joined the rest of the metal on the floor.

Sandal looked at all the armor and cooed, “Shiny…”

Hawke smiled at him. “Just don’t stay up all night. Save mine for the morning.”

Cullen started and waved his splayed hands at her and the dwarf. “Th-that won’t be necessary.”

But Sandal had already cast aside Aris’s shield in favor of the Templar plate and pet the flaming sword reverently. “I like this shiny!”

“Looks like you’ve been out voted Cullen,” Hawke said and went back to the vault. After some cursing and loud noises, she reemerged with a wooden cot frame and set it down not far from the fireplace. She didn’t say a word as she unfolded the apparatus and pivoted as soon as it was done, heading for the stairs. A moment after she disappeared from view, she called out, “Are you going to stand there all night, or help me?”

He stammered as he scurried up the stairs, “Right, w-what do you need me to do?” He arrived at her bedroom door and hesitated. Looking in he saw a tastefully if somewhat sparsely decorated room. It was dominated by the fireplace to the left and the bed was twice the size of the one he slept on back at the Gallows. The area that appeared the most personal to its owner however, was the desk on his right. He could make out several parchments bearing her sloping and curling penmanship, stencil plates, several stamping shapes and an assortment of colored inks.

“Ahem, see something of interest?” Hawke’s stare was cool and her tone even.

He blushed at having been caught. “I just never pictured writing to be a hobby of yours. That seems more like Varric’s area of expertise.”

Aris grinned widely. “Indeed, he is the master when it comes to spinning yarns but he loves sneaking as many details from my journals as he can.”

She tossed a large folded rectangle of padding at him then and he wondered how he hadn’t noticed its presence in her arms until it was flying at his face.

“Your mattress for the cot,” she said and sauntered back to her wardrobe.

A familiar scent drifted to his senses and he sniffed the padding he held, trying to place it. “This smells like…”

Cullen looked up at where her entire inventory of clothes was on display in the armoire and saw flower sachets hanging off the bar alongside the garments. His gaze zeroed in on her and recognition dawned.

He pointed, “Is it Andraste’s Grace?”

Hawke beamed at him. “You know it?”

“Well I am a native Fereldan, remember? It grows everywhere there. But not here…” Cullen frowned. “Where did you get it?”

“From our garden,” Leandra said, from behind him. He turned to face her, relieved that she was smiling instead of scowling at him. “I took some seeds with us when we left Lothering. Now that we have room for a garden, I’ve been growing them again.”

Cullen breathed deeply of the flower’s scent, surprised with how much a simple reminder of home contented him. For the first time since arriving in Kirkwall, he wondered if he didn’t want to return someday.

“You must truly have a masterful green thumb, mistress, to cultivate such a flower here. Kirkwall’s not known for being an easy place to grow things.”

Leandra couldn’t help smiling winsomely at the Templar, making it apparent where Hawke received her beautiful grin. “Dinner’s ready,” she said and walked out, nearly floating on her feet.

Dinner that night had been roasted duck and, even reheated, it was still delicious. The fresh veggies and fruit that accompanied it were lightly prepared, allowing the natural flavors to shine through. Bodahn produced a bottle of wine for them and when her mother asked for their story about how they escaped the coroner’s locker, Hawke showed so much interest in it, that the bottle was more than half empty by the time she finished the tale, complete with mention of her magical exercise in their escape. She stood up from her not as empty plate.

Aris knew she was drawling a bit too much as testament to her consumption of spirits but still made an effort to seem sober as she announced that she was going upstairs to bathe and retire. Orana scampered out of her corner to begin drawing the bath and Hawke followed carefully behind her.

“Goodnight!” She called to the room below, not waiting for a reply before closing her door a little too loudly.

Next to him, Hawke’s mother sighed sadly and began clearing the table.

“She seemed rather not herself,” Cullen mused and frowned when Leandra visibly flinched.

For several long moments, nothing was said. Cullen had just accepted that nothing would be and rose to help when the woman sighed. “Anytime my daughter has to use her magic, she has trouble sleeping.”

“I see,” Cullen returned. “She’s not used to expending her energy and dealing with the Fade afterward at night?”

Leandra bustled back into her work. “Sometimes, she seems personally offended that the Maker gave her such a gift.”

“Has she always felt that way?”

Leandra nodded. “I don’t understand it. Malcolm, Maker rest his soul, was a reluctant mage too and he was Aris’s hero. I wish she would let go of his resentment of magic so she could find some joy in it.”

“Perhaps she has her own reasons to resent her magic, Mrs. Hawke,” Cullen offered.

But the woman shook her head. “She’s never embraced it at all. The night her magic surfaced, she had nightmares and became terrified of sleeping. It took time but she eventually decided to pretend that her magic didn’t exist. The nightmares faded and she’s been content ever since. I didn’t have the heart to force her to develop her talent.” Leandra cast a guilty glance at the stairs. “Now I wonder if that was a costly mistake. Living in Kirkwall has demanded much of Aris, maybe too much.”

“She’s strong,” Cullen said, wanting to comfort the widow. “Her desire to suppress her magic does worry me but she has an immovable moral compass. She’ll do whatever she must and I’ve yet to see her waiver from what is right. You raised a person with a wonderful heart – remember that.”

Leandra smiled at him and they fell silent, working together. Cullen stayed until the kitchen was finally spotless. He caught sight of how exhausted the older woman looked and guilt stole over him.

“Why don’t you retire now Mistress? I can see to it that the house is secured for the night.”

Leandra sagged with relief and smiled. “Thank you ser knight.” She rose up on her toes to wrap her arms around him in a sudden embrace that he returned somewhat awkwardly. Then she was gone and he set to work fulfilling his promise.

By the time he’d checked every window, balcony, door and vent the entire house was still, save for Sandal’s soft mumble as he rubbed gore off the mountain of armor. After setting up his bed, he removed his robe and linen tunic to make use of the washroom behind the kitchen and get the essence of Darktown out of his hair. The water pipe coming into the little room was a revelation to him. All he had to do was stand under it and pull a cord! It was even a little warm from the reservoir’s location on the roof and a day spent in the sun.

As the water flowed through his curls, unusually loud slippered footsteps shuffled toward him and when he looked, he saw Leandra coming to a stop at the doorway, holding a towel and soap in her hands. She didn’t say anything as she set the items down on a nearby shelf, hardly waiting for his ‘thank you’ before turning to leave.

“When we first met, it seemed we would be friends, Mistress Hawke.” Cullen cursed his impulsive tongue as the older woman’s shoulders stiffened. “I hope I haven’t offended you in some way.”

Leandra sagged, half turning to regard the knight. “The only thing you have done, _Templar,_ is discover the one thing that could tear my family apart. It’s difficult to trust you with such a secret.”

Cullen scrubbed his hands over his face, adrenaline pumping through him, as he searched for the right words to say. “If I could, I’d forget that I know. Hawke is a friend and we work well together. Maker forgive me… I wanted nothing more than for it to not be true when she knelt over me and magic glowed in her fingertips. There are times when I feel as though Meredith can see right through me and see what I’ve done, see the lies I’ve told and the secrets I’ve kept. During those times, it seems that it would have been easier if Hawke had let me die.”

Leandra turned slowly toward him, assessing him. “It would be easier still to simply take Aris to the Circle, wouldn’t it? I’m her mother and there were times, during her childhood, that I had to fight such a desire, when my strength faltered and it seemed the better choice to leave her at the nearest Chantry. However, mothers don’t get to be that selfish. I had my love for her to keep me from giving her away. When the burden becomes too much, what reason do you have to remain strong?”

Leandra’s gray eyes were cold and sharp as they bored through him and Cullen could only shrug feebly, at a loss.

The older woman nodded. “I live in fear of that day, ser knight. I’m wretchedly, horribly terrified of the sight of you because any day – any moment – could be the point at which you can’t bear it anymore and come to take my only surviving daughter from me.” 

Cullen bowed his head, swallowing hard. “It would appear that you have no choice but to trust me, mistress. I know this is little comfort, but I need to keep an eye on Hawke. I have to know my trust isn’t misplaced, either. It doesn’t matter that it’s been years that I’ve known her. I _need_ to know I’ve made the right decision.”

“And I _need_ to know that decision won’t change, that she isn’t making the wrong choice in this matter,” Leandra retorted, stepping into his personal space.

“These are things only time will tell.” It was a weak reply, he knew but it was the simple truth of the matter.

“Indeed they are. My daughter is a good judge of character, Cullen and she trusts you far more blindly than I but she has also made peace with the idea of going to the Gallows. If you arrested her, she wouldn’t fight you – that is how much faith she has placed in you.  So I will wait and see what time brings. I hope Aris doesn’t pay dearly for that faith and unexpectedly find herself in chains.”

A sudden, hard sensation nearly took Cullen’s breath away. He’d never considered that Aris was giving as much to him as he was to her. He never realized that it might be similar for her: that she was waiting for a monster to come after her and giving him the benefit of the doubt that he wouldn’t.

“Then it would appear I have a good reason to bear the burden of such a secret as this, after all,” he said.

Leandra studied him for a moment before allowing the tiniest hint of a smile to tug the corners of her mouth upward.  “So it seems.”


End file.
